After
by badlywolf
Summary: It's a post-House's-death fic. A little angsty and fluffy at the same time. I can't really say. I can't really determine which genre it is.. Better read it yourself because I suck at summaries..


**June 11****th****, 2016**

"Mommy, where are we going?" asked the little boy. He looked up at his mother, who was holding his hand as they walked across the green field. It was still quite early in the morning. The wind breezed through them and they could smell the fresh aroma of grass and dew. The boy held onto his mother's hand tightly, his long little fingers clutched onto her mother's longer ones. He skipped a little occasionally and hummed an incoherent children song.

"Do you remember when you asked me why you and Rachel don't have a daddy?" his mother asked back, smiling down at him. The boy looked up at her with his big brilliant blue eyes and nodded, humming his confirmation. He was frowning. His sharp eyebrows curled on his forehead as he tried to figure out where his mother was going with this question.

"Well, people don't live forever. They can't. And your daddy was sick. When people get sick, they don't always get better," she said softly, trying to explain death. Explaining about death to a four year old boy was not easy, of course. The boy looked around at the lines of stones around them as they were walking. His grip on his mother's hand tightened. The aura was giving him chills and he stepped a little closer, pressing himself to his mother's side.

"Did he go to Valhalla?" he asked innocently. He thrust his free hand into his jeans pocket to warm his hand up a little. Lisa Cuddy smiled.

"Has Rachel been teaching you about Vikings again?" She could not hide her amusement. Her daughter was one interesting child. She was not a regular seven year old girl. She had been interested with pirates—thanks to House, Lord of the Rings, starting to speak some elf language with her mother occasionally, and her latest obsession was Viking. Now that her younger brother was more than four years old, she could start influencing him with those obsessions. And he had been going along with her so far, being the good little brother that he was.

"No," he answered quickly, trying to cover for his sister. He was that good of a brother. Cuddy smirked.

"If it wasn't Rachel, who taught you then?" she asked again.

"I read Rachel's books when she wasn't looking," he said, actually going along with her. It kind of reminded her of a certain man and she missed that man sometimes. She raised her eyebrows at his words and the little boy returned her gaze with his very own innocent smile. Cuddy shook her head, still with amusement.

"If you weren't so cute, I would've…" she quickly cut herself purposefully. It had always made her little boy curious. He quickly looked up at his mother, eyes widening with curiosity.

"You would've what?" he whined. He hated it when his mother cut herself off in the middle of a sentence. Cuddy couldn't help to chuckle a little, making him pout.

"If you're a good boy, I will tell you," she teased him. He scowled.

"You always say that!" he argued. Oh, how she loved messing with her little boy. She loved seeing that cute pout on his handsome little face—the face that had a lot of similarities with his father. He inherited those thin lips, bright blue eyes and sharp eyebrows from his father. And that cute little pout—he definitely inherited it from his father. In fact, almost everything about him reminded her of the boy's father.

Noah Gregory Cuddy was a slim built boy. He was not skinny and was not fat either, but his cheeks were quite chubby and rosy. He had high cheek bones like both of his parents and very unruly, wavy dark brown tufts on his head. He was a cheerful child, almost mischievous even. After he first learnt to walk, he would not stop walking everywhere—hiding in places that made his mother almost went crazy and refusing to be held or put into the stroller. But at the end of that day, he got tired and nearly cried when Cuddy refused to pick him up just to tease him.

As a four year old, he was no ordinary boy. He was already enrolled in one of the top kindergartens in Princeton and more functional than other children in his class who were mostly a year older than him. He could read—which Cuddy was unaware of until after sometime. When she found out, she was surprised and it turned out that Rachel had been teaching him how to read _and_ count. Apparently, he had been doing so well at both subjects. And he could count up to one hundred, along with some simple Math. Cuddy couldn't be more proud of her son.

Since he was born, Noah had been very stubborn—always nagging if he didn't get what he wanted. But eventually Cuddy would win the argument. Cuddy was very proud of her son and she was happy that Rachel accepted her little brother very well, as well as getting along with him. When Noah wasn't even born yet, she would read stories to her stomach, even when her fascination with pirates started to peak again, and after he was born, Rachel would talk to him and Noah was very responsive to her—probably recognizing her voice from when he was inside the womb.

She loved her children very much, but it was quite painful to watch Noah grow to look more like his father every day. She almost couldn't handle her frustration when Rachel wouldn't stop asking about House shortly after she resigned from Princeton Plainsboro to avoid the man after what he did to her house. She was thankful that her sister was there for her even though she had her own family. Her mother, even though she was there with her, even during the birth, kept hinting that she wanted the father to be in the picture. But she eventually convinced her mother that she could do it on her own. And she did.

"Mommy, are those flowers for my daddy?" Noah questioned, pointing to the bouquet of flowers that his mom was holding with her free hand. Cuddy looked down at her son in slight surprise. She didn't expect Noah to embrace the idea of him having a deceased father so quickly. She guessed that it was because her little son was longing to at least know something about who his father was and she didn't have the heart to tell him before, that he would never meet the man.

Talking about _him_ was a sensitive subject for Rachel. That was why they never even mentioned his name at home. She was barely three years old when they left Princeton. She gradually forgot about _his_ face, only remembering his name and that _he_ was her friend. Then eventually she forgot him completely after Noah was born, deciding that the guy was no longer her friend. That was until the day that House died. They just had to come to the funeral and Rachel suddenly remembered _him_ again. The little girl understood that he was never going back to them again and she would tell her mother that she missed the man. Noah was used to that phrase, but he never asked about the man that his sister missed. If Rachel wanted him to know, she would have told him. That was how their siblinghood worked.

Cuddy smiled slightly at the memory of a scene that proved of how close her children were with each other, but then quickly snapped out of it as she remembered that her son was still waiting for an answer. She smiled down at the child.

"Yes, honey," Cuddy said, as they both finally stopped in front of a headstone. The stone was carved with a name—a name she was familiar of.

"Gregory," Noah read out loud, letting go of her mother's hand and stepped forward to the headstone. His hand reached forward and his small toddler fingers traced the letters carefully. He then turned his head to his mom. "That's my middle name!"

Cuddy smiled at her son and she bent down to place the bouquet in front of the headstone. She then straightened up, placing her hand on top of her son's head. This was the first time that she brought Noah to his father's grave. Cuddy didn't really know what to decide before, but then she decided that it would be good for her son to know about his father from such a young age. She knew that it would grow more curiosity inside the child and that would eventually bite her back in the ass, but it would be worth it. Her son would know who his father was despite all of the man's flaws. House was not a disappointment—not completely. Some part of him, yes—but not all of him. If Rachel could adore him, Cuddy was sure Noah would too.

"Happy birthday, House," she murmured audibly. "Do you remember that night? Two nights before you—" She had to cut herself from saying the word, pausing for a few moments before continuing. "I told you that you have a son. I should have brought him to see you, but I couldn't leave you with all that short time you had left… And I should have brought him here sooner. He's four now and he's the best son I can ever have. So thank you, House. Thank you for giving me the chance of having such a wonderful child."

She smiled, reliving those moments in her head, but her eyes started tearing up. She shifted her gaze to her son, who was staring at her curiously. "Noah, why don't you wish your dad a happy birthday?"

"It's his birthday? Cool!" he said, before leaning forward to actually kiss the gravestone. "Happy Birthday, Daddy! I wish you were here so I can kiss and hug you for real."

Cuddy could not hold it anymore. She let the flood gates open and now tears were running down her cheeks. She was so proud of her son, but those tears were also for the man she loved and would always love. She rummaged through her purse and fished out a handkerchief to wipe her tears. Noah seemed to have heard her mother crying that he looked up at her mother with a frown.

"Why are you crying, Mommy? Is it because of something I said?" he asked, touching her mother's hand with concern written all over his face. He was a sweet boy like that. She had always wondered how House's offspring could be so adorable and a true gentle little man, but then she realized that the father of her youngest child was probably a sweet kid if it weren't for what his dad did to him during his childhood.

"No, sweetheart. I'm just very proud of you," she told him, leaning forward to press a kiss on his scalp lovingly. Noah seemed to buy it as he moved to stand beside his mother and held onto her hand once again. They both just stood there in front of Gregory House's grave, staring at the headstone.

"What was he like?" Noah suddenly spoke quietly. Cuddy glanced at her son briefly before she continued staring at the gravestone, on which were carved:

_GREGORY HOUSE_

_Beloved son and friend_

_June 11__th__, 1959 – May 21__st__, 2012_

_And father_, Cuddy added in her mind before swiveling her head in her son's direction. Her gaze softened when she saw his questioning look.

"He was the most wonderful man I have ever met. He was handsome, smart and funny. Just like you," she said, making her son giggle. "You really remind me of him. He didn't always make me happy, but I loved him and he loved me back. Oh, Noah. If he were here, I'm sure he'd be very proud of you even though he wouldn't admit it."

There was some comfortable silence for a few moments before Noah decided to speak up again. "What did he look like?" he asked.

"I'll show you his picture when we get home, okay?" Cuddy offered, and Noah seemed to be happy with that answer. "Come on, let's go. We're going to see him again next year with Rachel."

"Bye, Daddy!" Noah said, waving at the gravestone a little before turning with his mother, but when he was about to pull his mom towards the car, she didn't move. Noah looked up and saw a man standing a few feet from them. The man's mouth was opened and surprise was written all over his face. Noah frowned and tugged at his mother's hand, looking up at her.

"Mommy, do you know him?" he asked and, instead of trying to hide behind his mother's legs, stepped forward as if ready to defend her if the man would try to harm her. But Cuddy didn't answer him and instead called the man by his name.

"Wilson," she said, almost close to a whisper. She hadn't seen Wilson since House's funeral, nor had she seen anyone else from Princeton Plainsboro, for that matter. Before that, she had left Princeton soon after House crashed his car into her dining room. She didn't want to relive that awful memory, but she sometimes felt that it was her fault. She was the one who goaded him to express his anger anyway. Then he did and went missing for a few days. During those days, she couldn't bear it anymore and resigned from her job, leaving Princeton soon after.

The stress after the break up made her attention to things other than work lessened. She didn't even notice that she only had spotting during those first three months—those first three months that she was pregnant. Then she moved away and noticed that her period was two weeks late. She didn't want to believe at first that she was pregnant because she hadn't been sleeping with anyone since their break up. The three home pregnancy tests confirmed it and she was surprised to find that she was around eleven weeks pregnant. Eleven weeks pregnant and she didn't even notice it.

At first, the thought of having House's child and raising it without its father's presence seemed like such a horrible idea in Cuddy's mind, but then again, she had wanted to have a child of her own and her pregnancy had almost passed its first trimester anyway, so she then decided to try it. It survived and even arrived later than the due date. Noah Gregory Cuddy was supposed to be born in around mid-December, but he chose to come into the world in around late December. He was her little Hanukkah present.

Everything was going pretty good. Arlene Cuddy had even known about her latest grandson and she was pretty happy about having him around, not even trying to force Cuddy to come clean to House. That was until she learned that House was sick from Wilson, who still kept in contact with her after she moved away. It had been his liver—probably worn from all of the drugs and alcohol he had consumed, and the transplant committee was not going to approve a new liver for him. She knew that he was not going to last much longer. She quickly went down to Princeton and stayed on House's side.

House had learnt about the existence of his son two nights before he died. Cuddy had shown him a picture of her children that she had always kept inside her purse—showing to him what his son looked like and that Rachel had grown up since the last time he saw the little girl. They had had some nice talk about _their_ children even though he was trying hard to stay awake. The pain was getting more and more unbearable for him and he was getting tired. He had avoided death so many times that it was almost miraculous and it had finally caught up to him.

He was probably grateful of that last fact. The way that Cuddy saw him during his last days, he looked worn and tired. It was almost like he had given up. He had never done so. He had apologized and thanked her at the same time, probably thanking her for telling him about their son. She had left his side that last night to sleep at the hotel and he passed away at one o'clock in the morning. She cried her eyes out when she got her phone call at around two and returned to the hospital at around eight, mourning his death together with Wilson and House's lackeys in House's former office. His funeral was held a few days after that. She returned to New York City only to retrieve Rachel for his funeral.

The topic about Noah had never come up and so he was kept a secret from the Princeton Plainsboro community. No one knew about the boy besides her family and House, and the latter brought the secret to his death.

"Cuddy," Wilson said back, interrupting Cuddy's train of thoughts. They both stared at each other for a few moments before the man finally shifted his gaze to the little boy beside Cuddy, studying him for a moment before looking at Cuddy again. "Is he your son?"

"Yes," she answered truthfully. Wilson stepped forward closer to her. Confusion was written all over his face, but he was still trying to regain his composure that he said nothing. "His name is Noah."

Wilson looked at the boy, who was staring back at him with those piercing blue eyes. The boy was the spitting image of his father and Wilson didn't need confirmation from Cuddy regarding who the father was. The name that the toddler had just called House with also had answered his question. His bent down hesitantly and reached his hand towards Noah. Noah slowly let go of his mother's hand. He took his hand and shook it. "I'm James Wilson," Wilson said, introducing himself. "I'm a friend of your mom's. You can call me Wilson."

Noah tilted his head, letting go of the man's hand and reattached his hand back into his mother's. His eyes scrutinized him for a few moments before he opened his mouth. "You have thick eyebrows, Wilson," he commented nonchalantly and innocently. Wilson chuckled at the comment, while Cuddy scolded her little boy, telling him that it was not polite, and the boy just shrugged it off. The little toddler really reminded Wilson so much of his late friend. Not only his appearance, but apparently he also inherited some of his father's manners.

"Did you know my daddy too?" Noah asked. Wilson smiled sadly, throwing a brief glance at the gravestone before answering the boy's question.

"Yeah, he was my best friend," he said. Noah frowned at him.

"You don't seem too happy about that. Was he a bad person?" he asked again. Wilson gave him a sheepish smile and looked awkwardly at Cuddy, who was returning his gaze with an almost equally awkwardness. Her little boy was always curious and he was at the perfect age to be. In fact, he was actually too smart to be a four year old. He could already read people's expressions and he could really figure out how to read a situation. He was now staring back and forth between his mother and Wilson with a cute frown on his face. Cuddy cleared her throat, interrupting the tension.

"Maybe we should move this conversation somewhere else more comfortable," she stated, half offering because she didn't really want to have a long chat in a cemetery either, and she knew that Wilson would want an explanation of why he was never informed of House's only offspring while the little guy had been born, breathing, talking and walking around for four years. _That little guy who shared both House and Cuddy's DNA_, Wilson thought. His legacy. He nodded at Cuddy's offer and the three of them left the cemetery quietly. They would soon be there again in no time anyway. No goodbyes were really necessary.


End file.
